


"Crazy and Foolish" Is My Middle Name

by Le_kunokimchi



Series: The Scree's a Sea of Purples and Greens [3]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: BAMF Klaus Hargreeves, Ben and Klaus are JUST brothers in this, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Horrance, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Pseudo-Incest, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Sexual Tension, Sparrow Ben Hargreeves-centric, Sparrow Ben goes by Number One, Unreliable Narrator, it's Sparrow Ben and Klaus that are the ship, mild animal death, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26431654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Le_kunokimchi/pseuds/Le_kunokimchi
Summary: This was supposed to be some alone time, some bonding without the other prying ears. Sure, One had some work to do and an assignment to complete, but all Klaus had to do was just tag along and leave the dangerous stuff to him. And, yeah, maybe he didn't tell Klaus right away that this was more of a business trip than a road trip, but he'll get over it.At least they’re together, right?"I was perfectly content with staying home and using Christopher as a footrest but no, you had to promise me jupiter and only give me pluto.""In my defense," One muttered, eyes momentarily darting to his mirror, "you cut me off before I even got a chance to explain what you were agreeing to."(Or the instance where Sparrow's Number One brings Klaus with him on a mission)((A Continuation of A Little Birdy Told Me You Were Interested))
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves
Series: The Scree's a Sea of Purples and Greens [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912291
Comments: 36
Kudos: 182





	1. Rules Are For Pansies

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings! This will be a multi-chaptered adventure for Number One and Klaus. Basically, very chaotic and messy like always but with some angsty past stories and revelations; all in Birdy's POV. The title will make more sense later on (Pssssst THERE WILL BE SOME BAMF KLAUS MOMENTS YAY) 
> 
> ~Enjoy  
> (P.S. If you have not read the other two works in the series, some of this isn't going to make sense. I highly suggest that you at least read the first one:)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the title of this story. It used to be "Shining Armor? Big Whoop (All I Need Is a Gun and My Hat)". It was just too long and didn't ring nicely so sorry not sorry :)

"Tell me again why I’m doing this?"

Number One took a quick glance over his shoulder before making the turn onto the neighboring street. After a few moments of driving in a straight line again, he mumbled distractedly, “Because I asked you to.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the man sink a little further into his chair with a pout.

"But I don't want to,” he droned.

He clicks the turn signal as he catches sight of the next sign. "Then why did you come?" he asked, rotating the steering wheel once again.

"Because you asked me to-” Klaus’s face goes blank for a second, “Oh, I see what you did there."

A twinge of a smile pulls at his lips as he absently stares out the windshield. "It wasn't hard."

They fall into silence. The medium releases a long, suffering sigh.

This was supposed to be some alone time, some bonding without the other prying ears. Sure, One had some work to do and an assignment to complete, but all Klaus had to do was just tag along and leave the dangerous stuff to him. And, yeah, maybe he didn't tell Klaus right away that this was more of a business trip than a road trip, but he'll get over it. At least they’re together, right? Taking a trip because Dad asked him to check something out (and One then requesting to bring someone along for ‘second-opinion and backup purposes’) was better than him and Klaus having to keep tiptoe around each other because their siblings know too much and every interaction is super awkward ( _Thanks_ Luther for opening up that whole can of worms last week at dinner; although, One was kind of to blame too for teasing Klaus about the marks… but he’ll ignore _that_ ). 

"This isn't fun at all," Klaus comments, "Just letting you know in case you cared about how anyone else is affected by your _basically_ \- _talking-to-a-rock_ attitude."

One frowns slightly but doesn't reply, getting onto the ramp of the freeway. 

"I was perfectly content with staying home and using Christopher as a footrest but no, you had to promise me jupiter and only give me pluto."

"In my defense," One muttered, eyes momentarily darting to his mirror, "you cut me off before I even got a chance to explain what you were agreeing to."

The man had just seemed so excited when he asked him to come without even having to know the reason that he forgot to fill in that little detail right away; Klaus had jumped off the sofa immediately, his revenge on Christopher for calling himself 'the better Number Four' completely forgotten as he raced upstairs to pack a few things.

And about twenty minutes later, already on the road, Klaus realized why the sentient cube had wished him good luck on his way out the door. 

"Well nobody told me that you're a trip-natzi."

One grimaced and shot him a brief glare. "I am not."

"You _are._ You’re almost as bad as Reggie with your schedules and regulations; you sucked all the fun out of a little get-away,” the man said as he waved his hand through the air like he was swatting at an annoying fly.

“The best of get-aways need to be _organized_ and _planned_ ,” Number One defended quietly, “Besides, this isn’t some spur of the moment vacation, okay? We can’t afford to be reckless and impulsive so, for once, try not to be yourself.”

Klaus scoffed and crossed his arms. He groaned exasperatedly, “We spent the first ten minutes of driving going over _rules._ Who even does that?”

“Rules ensure safety and fairness.”

“They ensure _dictatorship_ and _fun-sucking_ ,” the medium hissed, “You need to learn to loosen up a little. Rules are made to be broken.”

One’s eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing further, “That’s precisely the opposite of why rules are made.”

“Don’t be such a killjoy: pull that stick out of your ass!”

“If you weren’t such an annoying jester then there wouldn’t be a stick up my-” he blinked and then shook his head, “There is no stick! I’m not being a killjoy! Also, you’re breaking rule six!”

Klaus rolled his eyes, mumbling, “The trip to the graveyard was better than this…”

One had strict rules about road trips; especially road trips that involved _him_ driving for hours.

First, no music or radio: people can never agree on what song to hear, singing was annoying, dancing was vexing when it wobbled the car, and flipping through the stations for something other than ads was beyond distracting so no, _big_ no. 

Second, no eating: mouth noises were disgusting and irritating, people can't eat without making a mess, and it stinks up the whole car. If somebody was hungry, they can wait until _he's_ hungry enough to pull over at a diner or something. 

Third, no drinking anything except water: spilled drinks are sticky and stainable. Off-limits. _Especially_ coffee and soda (he learned that the hard way). 

Fourth, absolutely _no_ repeating of stupid or pointless questions under any circumstances. (He swears to God if somebody asks him 'Are we there yet,' there _will_ be hell to pay. He's not a fucking fortune teller, he can't magically predict when they'll get there with so many variables at play. If they are in such a _hurry_ to get there, then _they_ should have driven themselves; if they are so _worried_ about time, then _they_ should stop distracting the _only_ person who could make the car go faster!) 

Fifth, no idiotic games to pass the time. You're a frickin adult: grow up and entertain yourself. Go on a phone, read a book, he doesn't care; just don't try to drag him into something that could potentially pull his eyes away from the road.

Sixth, use _indoor_ voices. If he has to raise his voice to be heard over someone, then _everyone_ is in trouble. Quiet your ass down: whatever you’re saying can't be _that_ important. 

Lastly, do _not,_ by any means, _touch_ the driver. Do not lay a single finger on him. He's _driving_ , everyone’s life is in his hands; do you really want to take the risk of making him jerk the wheel? He hates physical contact in general so just do everybody a favor and keep your goddamn hands to yourself. 

He has had these rules since he eighteen, since the second time he was permitted to drive without their father’s supervision; and since he was Number One, he was _always_ the driver. A collective groan would erupt from his siblings every time they were assigned a mission that would require a long trip; One was, in fact, a travel stickler. 

“This is worse than the time I punched you in the face?” One questioned, glancing at him with an eyebrow raised. 

“Definitely,” Klaus replied without skipping a beat, “There were some fantastic conversations that day-”

“But we got in an argument over-”

“And you popped a boner when I booped your nose and then you excused yourself to the bathroom for twenty minutes trying to get it to go away while I sat at a table for two all by myself. Good times, huh?”

One looked completely mortified, flusteredly lying, “I-I did not!”

The medium peered at him, unamused. “Mhm, sure.” 

“I didn’t, I- I just had to pee, big deal.”

“For twenty minutes? Unlikely.”

“There… there was a line.”

“There was only one stall and nobody else was over there.”

He was absolutely humiliated at this point; what was he even supposed to say? He was just digging himself an even deeper hole with each lie that sprouted from his mouth. And he could see, out of the corner of his eye, Klaus simpering smugly like he has been waiting to tease him about this for a long time. His ears and the back of his neck flushed; he didn’t want to seem so easily _riled_ up but Klaus was just so… Klaus. Everything about him kind of screamed sex appeal. 

So, if he’s looking at it realistically speaking, he’s probably not the first person to disappear for a moment of self-care because of something Klaus said or did, whether it be a man or woman for that matter; he was the perfect mix of masculine and feminine qualities after all. 

The only way to recover some dignity was to regain control over the situation and by doing that, he will need to catch Klaus off-guard. But that’s a lot easier said than done.

He inquired, “Well if you’re so sure that’s what happened, why didn’t you say anything?” 

The man smiled at him in faux pity (never a good sign). “Now why would I do that to my ketchup muffin’s fragile little ego? I’m not heartless.”

One’s expression twisted in confusion at the new nickname. Why’d he have to be a ketchup muffin? Why couldn’t he just be a regular old muffin? Ketchup on a muffin sounds disgusting. He’s so off-put about it that he can’t even remember what he previously wanted to say. 

“I’m vetoing that name real quick,” he stated with a wrinkle of his nose, “I tolerate Birdy because it’s from our first meeting but that one is a hell no. It’s so… degrading and… gay.”

Klaus does a double-take with a furrowed brow on the last part of the comment, “You do realize you’re-”

One waves his hand in a dismissive manner, “Yes, yes. I’m aware but this is a rather new occurrence so I’d rather not have it announced to the world every time you open your mouth.”

“And why not? Because you’re ashamed?”

“No, because I don’t know if I consider myself as gay or bi. Maybe just moronsexual, if we’re speaking in technicalities. This is the first time I’ve ever…” he trailed, chewing the inside of his cheek as he took a quick glance at the medium, “Hey don’t look at me like that.”

Klaus’s hands were over his heart as he stared at him with such a dramatized flatteredness. “That’s literally the cutest thing ever; I’m your first _everything_? Interest, kiss, time?”

He shifted uncomfortably, giving him a bashful yet pleading look to shut up. “Yes, you are; I didn’t exactly have time for that kind of nonsense growing up, unlike you.”

Klaus blew a raspberry, rolling his eyes. “Technically, neither did I; I just… made time. But I would hardly consider that as having an advantage over you; it was all superficial. When you start using drugs at thirteen and have no source of income as well as dear Papa breathing down your neck, you have to get creative with your methods of obtaining such substances, even if that means doing some _ungodly_ favors.”

One spared him a brief questioning expression, his brow furrowed slightly in thought. His inquisitive nature was pushing him to ask what he meant but a small part of him knew that the answer wasn’t going to be pretty; the haunted look in the man’s eyes spoke volumes.

“Just go ahead and ask,” Klaus remarked with a seemingly strained smile, “You got that constipated look on your face that you always get when you’re trying to bite your tongue.”

"When you say favors, do you mean like… illegal things or..?"

"Let's just say that my _first_ time was in a dirty alley behind a bar when I was fourteen… and the other guy was, well, a lot older. The things one does for ecstasy, am I right?"

One's eyes widened as he gave him a wary glance. "Klaus…"

"What? It was consensual-"

"No, he pressured you into it and took advantage of you-"

"I was _not_ raped, okay? Just- Just stop talking about it, I don't want to talk about it…"

There was an awkward silence that fell over them. Number One felt a strange form of guilt for bringing it up but with an angry tinge for how disgusting humanity could be. The more he hears about Klaus’s past, the more he wishes that they could have met sooner; if only he was there to shoulder some of the burdens that the medium has endured for all his life. There was so much pain and loss and suffering, more than One ever knew possible. How would have Klaus turned out differently if he had a happier life?

In a way, though, One was there for it all because Ben was. _Where did you go wrong, Ben?_

Perhaps opening up to the medium about something from his childhood would make this conversation less uncomfortable; heart-to-hearts were never their thing but he definitely didn’t want Klaus to feel like he must bottle up his trauma and pain until he becomes a ticking time bomb (one Umbrella had already caused an apocalypse for said reason; Lord knows they don’t _another_ one). 

“When I was eighteen, we found this abandoned kitten next to where we had just beat up a bunch of bad guys. It was in bad shape: really small and skinny. We knew that if we left it, it wasn’t going to make it,” he began, staring absently at the road (Klaus turned his head to peer at him curiously). “Dad doesn’t allow pets, we didn’t have money to leave it with a vet, there were no shelters open at the time… yet everybody kept _insisting_ that we couldn’t leave it. And I kept saying _no_ , I said _no_ ; but they all piled into the car with the kitten anyways because the rain had picked up. Nobody had a plan, we had _no idea_ what we were going to do with it and everybody was arguing so _loud_ in the backseat. None of us have even taken care of a pet before and there was _no_ way that we could keep it a secret from Dad, Grace, _and_ Pogo. And my stomach just kept twisting with the thought of us getting _caught_ and what they would do to it, what they would do to _us_.”

Klaus frowned, resting his hand gently on the console between them; confliction and concern danced in his eyes, like he had wanted to reach out further to comfort him but thought better of it.

“I told them that we should have left it but nobody was listening to me; they couldn’t _hear_ me. They were all at each other’s throats about it: yelling over themselves and the radio. And then it started to _meow_. It just kept meowing, so _loud,_ like it was wailing and it just wouldn’t _stop_. How were we supposed to sneak it in if it wouldn’t stop meowing? What if it was calling for its mother and siblings? What if it wasn’t all the sick and we just took it away from its only family? And all the while, that knot in the pit of my stomach just kept growing.”

The medium started biting his lip, uneasily eyeing the now grim expression that has eclipsed One’s face. 

“I told them to make it shut up but nothing was working and then they all started arguing about _why_ it wouldn’t stop; I didn’t care _how_ they went about it, I just wanted it to stop _meowing._ But they just got louder and the radio got louder and yet I could still _hear_ the kitten’s cries over all of it and I was so annoyed and stressed out of my fucking mind and nobody would shut up and it wouldn’t shut up; I was just trying to drive home, I just _wanted_ to go home and take a shower. I didn’t _want_ to think about this obnoxious kitten, I didn’t _want_ to think about my bickering siblings, I didn’t _want_ to think about how _angry_ Father was going to be when we got back… And finally, I snapped and that… that churning feeling ceased as one of the Horror’s limbs burst out and snatched the kitten right from Eva’s lap.”

Klaus just blinked at him, eyes wide as saucers. “Did the eldritch… Did it bring the kitten with it when-”

“Yes,” One interrupted, his jaw clenching, “But all I could think about was what if it had grabbed one of my siblings instead? If it had just reached back a little farther… If it was just us in the car... This- This is why I don’t like being distracted while I’m driving…”

“Christ on a cracker,” Klaus muttered, leaning back in his seat and running a hand through his hair, “We’re all sorts of messed up, aren’t we?”

Number One huffed a wry laugh. “Yeah. We are. Comes with the last name, I suppose.”

It was quiet for a few moments, nothing but the roaring of the freeway assailing their ears. One felt antsy under the medium’s intense gaze; he was doing that ‘soul-searching’ look that makes his skin crawl.

Finally, without blinking, the man says, “I’m going to break rule seven.”

“What- No- Were you even listening?”

One freezes as a hand gently squeezes his knee. “I wasn’t asking for permission; I was giving fair warning,” Klaus chided before leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. He pulls away and pats his leg twice before falling back against his chair. “There is nothing wrong with being an attentive driver,” the medium said, a perspicacious glint to his olive-green eyes, “But that happened a long time ago and you have a much greater understanding of the little eldritch creature in your tummy. I trust you and the control you have over your powers; I know you’re not going to hurt me. So just lighten up a bit, you got nothing to worry about.” He juts a thumb to the right, “Well, except for this douchebag riding in your blind spot.”

A warm feeling spreads through Number One’s chest as a smile tugs at his lips. He didn’t know that was something he needed to hear but, now that he has, it felt like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders. 

“Are you blushing Birdy boy?” 

“I-I don’t know,” he stammered, definitely acknowledging the heat in his cheeks now, “Whatever happened to not wanting to damage my ‘fragile little ego’, huh?”

The medium raised an eyebrow and smiled cheekily, “I didn’t realize that blushing was such a shattering blow! Or did a little smooch to the cheek turn you on too?”

One scoffed, “Don’t flatter yourself; I’m not _that_ easy. You just caught me off guard is all.”

“You’re right, you’re not _that_ easy; I’m just _that_ good,” Klaus replied as he rested his chin in his hand, mischief twinkling in his eyes, “I’ve literally seen your dick yet you are blushing because I kissed your cheek; you are like a sexually repressed teenager. It’s so adorable.”

“Shut up, I am _not_ a _sexually repressed teenager_. You aren’t even _that_ hot,” One grumbled with a roll of his eyes; he didn’t really mean the last part but he knew that Klaus already saw right through the jab.

The man chuckles before asking, “Would you like to play a little game?”

He deadpans, “Rule five-”

Klaus pushed his pink lips into a pout. “Is absolute rubbish. Who are you to decide what kind of game it is? Idiotic is a relative term.”

“And you compared to me makes you the idiot so no,” he replied, quick enough to reveal the wariness he felt in regards to Klaus’s plans for him.

The medium bats his eyelashes enticingly, an impish smile working its way across his face. “Fine; think of it as a… a bet more than a game.” 

One casts him a look of suspicion. “What do you want?”

“Oh nothing much,” he replied, inspecting his nails in faux disinterest, “Just to prove a point.”

“And that point being?”

“That you get all _hot and bothered_ very easily. I won’t even have to touch you and I could get you going. Why do guys like dirty talk so much? I mean the action is so much better than _talking_ about the action, you know?”

One sinks a little further into his chair. “I don’t want to play this game.”

“Why?” Klaus challenges, “Because you know you’ll lose?”

“I most certainly will _not_ lose but you’re an asshole so why should I give you what you want?”

“Because that’s what Daddys do: they give me what I want.”

He squirms in his seat a little, clearing his throat. “I said I didn’t want to play.”

Klaus laughs excitedly, clapping his hands once. “I wasn’t even trying that time. This is going to be easier than I thought.”

One groaned in annoyance, “What part of _I don’t want to play_ do you not understa-”

“Do you feel everything the Horrors do? Are they sensitive and needy too?”

One goes rigid and swallows roughly. “Um, what?”

“Are they extensions of yourself? Like if I were to, I don’t know, put the tip of one in my mouth, would you feel it? Can they feel aroused too?”

He rolls his eyes, “I know what you’re doing but it’s not going to work-”

“Because feeling them slide up my body and wrap around my throat was literally the most amazing thing ever. Each sucker felt like your mouth with a little more teeth, every constriction as you were leaned over me panting and flushed and sweaty-”

“Cowboy, if you know what’s good for you, just stop talking-”

“And you were just _so_ good and absolutely _dominating_ me; and I was just sprawled out beneath you, a writhing mess, and could only say-”

“Klaus, I swear to God-”

Color completely drains from his face as the medium moans obscenely, “Harder, One~”

The car swerves subtly as One curses loudly to himself. His pants feel uncomfortably tight, his mouth goes dry, there’s a scarlet hue traveling up his chest to his neck and ears. And he knows, by the way the man was snickering smugly, that Klaus had already won.

“D-Don’t you ever do that in my fucking car again,” he grumbles in a flustered manner, shifting in discomfort at the scratchy restraint of his black jeans. 

“Unless you aren’t driving and we’re in the backseat, right?”

“Fucking shut your mouth! You already proved your point; what more do you want from me?”

The man’s face becomes very serious all of a sudden, him leaning forward to be near Number One’s ear. “Honestly, your lips. I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Shit,” he breathes, “Fucking hell, we’re the next exit just wait a moment.”

Klaus presses his forehead to One’s shoulder, “Rule seven is so dumb,” he mutters, “Drive faster.”

“I’m going, I’m going. Damn, you’re such an impatient asshole.”

“You say that yet you’re legs keep wiggling-”

“Because some horny bastard thought it would be funny to give me a boner while I am driving. Have you ever had a hard-on in skinny jeans? This is literally the worst feeling ever.”

“Pay attention, you big baby; you’re about to miss the exit.

“Dear God, if you can hear me, please take your-”

“That brat hates me, remember-”

“Oh right, scratch that.” One takes a quick glance downwards. “Dear Satan, if you can hear me, please take your demon child back; I don’t want him anymore.”

Klaus nods his head in approval against his shoulder, “Ah yes, much better; although lust and sin is kind of the devil’s thing so I think you’re only making things worse for yourself-” 

The car slams to a stop, parked behind some building on the side of the freeway. One pulls the key from the ignition and grips the back of Klaus’s head roughly.

“You’re insufferable,” he hisses before hungrily claiming his lips. The medium smirks.


	2. Knights Are For Prats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One held out his hand, “Gun.”  
> The man gives him a high-five. He glares at him.
> 
> “What about it?”  
> “Give it to me: we’ll have a better chance of actually hitting something.”  
> Klaus’s eyes narrow but there is amusement dancing there, like he was looking for a deeper reaction. He wordlessly hands it over and One can’t help but feel a little suspicious of the small upturn of his lips as he gestures to the vent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I changed the title. Yes, it has been awhile... I took a break from this and wrote some Ben and Klaus angst and then after that, I wrote the next part of this series but I'm waiting to publish that one until after I finish this:)  
> ~Thanks for waiting and I hope you enjoy!

Number One grunts as he kicks the door, hands full of luggage and patience wearing drastically thin. “Klaus,” he hollers, the toe of his shoe thudding against the scuffed up wood a couple more times. 

“Hey, you wanna get that for me?” He hears the medium mumble from inside.

One cocks a brow, who the hell was he talking to? “Open the door, dumbass.”

There’s a small sigh before the man chides, “No need to be disrespectful, Birdy. Just give her a sec’, she's got a bad hip.”

His eye twitches before his foot began to pound mercilessly upon the flimsy wood, “Open the fucking-”

There’s a click and then the door is slowly swinging open; he shuts his mouth and stares in a baffled manner at Klaus collapsed over the width of one of the mattresses, his boots still on and his head lolling off the other side of the bed. 

He looked like he walked in, fell on the bed, and hasn’t moved since; it was a reasonable assumption, the man was quite lazy.

Klaus lifts his head just enough that he could catch a glimpse of his face; the medium grins. “No bed bugs,” he comments, like that somehow explained the odd occurrence that just transpired.

One opens his mouth but then closes it again, taking a quick glance around the motel room. If he hasn’t gotten up and there was no one else here, who just opened the door?

“I’m guessing Reggie booked the room, right? You know: two beds, decent bathroom, thin walls, lockable but easily breakable door?” The medium drawls, waving his hello-hand through the air, “You think they got a snazzy ice machine and snacks down the hall?”

“Yeah, he did but- the door… what-?” 

Klaus peers at him for a few moments before his face lights up, “Oh! That was Edith; she’s sitting over there on your bed. She’s not very happy with you at the moment: something about ‘Ye young folks dinnae hae ony respect fur yer elders thae days’? I don’t know, I’m not too good with the angry Scottish accent.”

“I...” One stops himself and shakes his head, walking in and pulling the door closed behind him with his foot; a ghost, of course it was a ghost. Since when was anything involving Klaus ever normal?

“Thanks for being absolutely useless,” he exasperates, tossing the bags onto the floor and sending a glare at the medium who just shrugged half-heartedly. “Give me the room key.”

Klaus whines, “But I gave you the spare.” 

Number One huffs and heaves his suitcase onto the bed, opening it up as he points out, “There was no spare; you took the only key and then left me to carry all the bags.”

“Oh… Well no hard feelings, right?” The man chuckles, propping up on his elbow before he frowns, “Wait, are we going somewhere?”

One rolls his eyes and shimmies out of his jeans. “ _ I’m _ going on my mission.  _ You  _ are staying here until I get back.”

“What? No way,” Klaus protests, sitting up, “You expect me to just  _ sit  _ here, by  _ myself _ , until you’re done?”

He pulls off his shirt and grabs his mission-jumpsuit. “Yes, that’s the plan.”

“And do  _ what  _ exactly?”

“I don’t know,” One replies with a shrug, stepping into the suit, “Watch TV, talk to your ghost friends, I don’t really care: as long as you’re here, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Nope,  _ no, _ ” the medium springs up off the bed and throws open his own bag, “Nuh-uh, we’re not doing this mighty lone wolf bullshit; I get enough of that from my actual brothers.”

Number One sighs, zipping up the jumpsuit and slipping on his boots. “You’re not coming with.”

“Oh yeah?” Klaus yanks out his ridiculous cowboy hat, “Watch me.”

“Stop being difficult,” he deadpans, “You’re only going to get in the way.”

The medium places his hands on his hips and snaps, “I am not a child; you act like I wasn't raised with the same stupid training regiments and part-time job of saving the world.”

“You know as well as I do that you only help out when it’s convenient for  _ you _ .”

“Well, I could be super helpful if people weren’t such condescending assholes.” His arms cross and he glares at One defiantly, “I’m not letting you go by yourself; if you wanted a solo-mission, you shouldn’t have brought me with.”

One struts forward, putting barely a finger’s length between them as he says in his most authoritative voice, “You are not going to step foot outside of this room and that’s final.”

“And why not?” Klaus challenges without hesitation.

“I can’t complete the task if I’m stuck having to protect you. You really want me to worry the whole time?”

“And I don’t know if I could live with myself if something happened to you and I wasn’t there. You really want that on my conscience?” His irises practically glow with concern as he quietly adds, “...Again?”

One tries to hold the stern expression on his face but it cracks with his words; his gaze softens. “Fine. You can tag along.” As the medium begins to grin, he warns, “But just promise me you’re not going to do anything stupid, alright? You are going to have to listen to someone, for once.”

“ _ Me, _ making  _ bad _ choices? Never.” Klaus gasps in mock offense, a hand over his chest, 

“And I  _ do _ listen, I just don’t care enough about what you’re saying to do what I’m told.”

One deadpans and flicks him in the forehead. “Just try not to get yourself killed.”

Rubbing the mark, the man mumbles, “Ouchy. Aye aye, sir.”

He feels like this is a horrible idea: a horrible idea that will most certainly come back to bite him in the ass, but… this seemed personal to Klaus.

Ben did die on a mission when he was sixteen… Does Klaus, perhaps, blame himself for not being there? He’s not sure what killed Ben or the circumstances that triggered such an event, but he feels that, deep down,  _ any  _ and  _ all  _ of the man’s siblings wouldn’t have made this decision; if Ben was alive, he’d probably be included. 

And where they go wrong, where Ben makes a mistake… He wants to go right; to do better by Klaus, he must first learn where the other’s failed. Relationships are built by trust and that is something the Umbrella Academy was severely lacking (no wonder they were so dysfunctional and constantly at each other’s throats). He just needs to have some faith in the medium.

And if to them it seemed like a crazy and foolish idea to bring Klaus with him, then maybe a little bit of crazy and foolish is all he needs to do better than them.

* * *

“What are we doing? Defeating a supervillain? Stopping a robbery? Saving the world from one of your emotionally stunted siblings?” The medium excitedly questioned, hands clasped behind his back as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

“Lower your voice,” One hissed, “This is a stakeout. You’re not doing anything, just stay behind me.”

“Oo~ stakeout,” Klaus winked, “Stealth mode: got it.”

He rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair in annoyance. “I regret everything,” he grumbles.

“But where are we going? How do we get in-” One gives him a pointed look, “Right… Listening and no asking stupid questions: got it.”

“There’s an exchange of a precious artifact going on inside; I need to retrieve it. There’s an air shaft on the roof we can enter through. There are three guards: two up there and one at the fire escape.”

Klaus smiles. “Wow, you’re so hot when you’re observant. So you’re gonna stop them with the tentacles, I suppose?”

One’s brow furrowed in thought. “I can’t; I might knock the fire escape over or rattle the building’s foundation.”

“Damn, if only Diego was here… His vigilante days did wonders for his sneaking around.”

“Or, you know,” One reminds in amusement, “he could have thrown a knife at the guy.”

The medium’s face goes blank for a moment before he mutters, “Oh… Yeah, true.” He perks up instantly though when his eyes scan over the fire escape, tapping One’s shoulder enthusiastically like he had an idea. “We could lure him down;  _ I  _ could lure him down and then you- you do your thing. But uh, no killing.”

One frowned. “Why?”

“I don’t wanna see his bitter ghost; just knock him out or something.”

His nose wrinkles, “Fine. Distract him how?”

Mischief twinkled in his eyes. "Hold my hat and just watch the prophet work his magic," Klaus cooed cryptically, pinching Number One’s cheek before sashaying closer to the fire escape.

There’s a sudden draft whipping through the air and the hair on the back of his neck rises as he watches the man’s hand turn a pale blue. The medium is crouched behind a trash can in the alley, an easy smile slipping onto his face as the armed look-out’s hair was ruffled from an unknown force. The guard stiffens and glances around. Klaus raises an eyebrow, gesturing vaguely with his hand in an upwards motion; two seconds pass before he’s nodding his head in affirmation to whoever he was silently communicating with. 

The gunner staggers as his shirt is tugged, something resembling a person’s hand moving beneath the fabric. He releases a yelp and smacks his stomach to try to press the outline away but then, presumably, the ghost's hand twists to poke a finger right up into the shirt to make a protruding point. It doesn’t take long for the guard to scramble down the steps, throw away his gun, and run his hands over himself like he was covered in ants: shaking his feet, scratching his arms, swiping through his hair, and swatting at his stomach. While he was distracted, Klaus slithers into the alley and places himself against the wall: kneeling down in a fetal-like position with his hands obscuring his face and hair falling into his eyes. The man’s shoulders are shaking subtly, like he is crying. 

One stares puzzledly at the spectacle before him; what exactly is Klaus doing?

“Help me,” the medium whines in a feminine manner, “I’m so scared.”

The look-out freezes, his eyes darting to Klaus’s shivering form.

“This place, it’s haunted! You have to help me,” Klaus murmurs with a pitched edge, slowly lowering onto the ground and spreading his toned thighs in a feigning-innocent manner. Klaus’s lavender, lacy blouse pooled between his legs to hide any unnecessary curves, ass and delicate calves on display in his tight leather pants. 

The man begins to approach Klaus, whispering, “They’re bothering you too, miss? Don’t worry, I’ll protect ya.”

Okay, yeah, One has seen enough.  _ He _ won’t be protecting shit. 

The guard crouches in front of Klaus, placing a hand on his knee in a  _ comforting and definitely not suggestive  _ manner. “I fought off one, I can fight off another. We’ll escape together, I’m sure my friends will be more than willing to help you.”

_ What the hell?!  _

One lets out a low growl of “Hands off,” as he flounces to be directly behind the man, raising his fist to clock him in the side of the head. The guard crumbles instantly, his head hitting the asphalt just shy of Klaus’s boot.

The medium does a peekaboo motion with his hands and snorts as he catches sight of One’s enraged expression. 

“ _ What the fuck was that for? _ ” He snapped, his hands still clenched at his sides in case his jealousy pushed him to swing at the look-out again for good measure. “You already scared the crap out of him, but you just  _ had  _ to try and seduce him  _ too _ ?”

“Well aren’t you a possessive little cutie,” Klaus snickered, heaving himself up off the ground.

_Possessive? He was so NOT possessive._ _And he’s not cute!_

“This isn’t some kind of game Klaus-” He stops in mid-tantrum as the medium’s face loses any sense of humor or amusement; there was a mask over his features that was purely unreadable, emerald eyes fixing him with that signature penetrating stare. The look catches him off guard and his words fail him; he just swallows as he waits for something (someone) to break the tension.

Finally, the man raises his good-bye hand and pinches One’s nose. “You’re too serious sometimes. I had everything under control,” he says before walking past him with a small brush of shoulders, “Let’s go. I bought Edith some time, the other guards should be out like a light right now; angry Scottish women, am I right?”

Number One blinks a few times before his lips press into a thin line as he follows after Klaus without another word. They carefully travel up the fire escape, using the Horrors to  _ delicately  _ push the other two guards off the building (The medium had muttered angrily to himself that they were already knocked out and that it was completely  _ unnecessary  _ to shove them to their dooms but One wasn’t going to take any chances).

Klaus picks up one of their abandoned guns, checking the clip for the number of rounds before humming and slinging it over his shoulder. 

He raises an eyebrow at the medium.

“What?”

One held out his hand, “Gun.”

The man gives him a high-five. He glares at him.

“What about it?”

“Give it to me: we’ll have a better chance of actually hitting something.”

Klaus’s eyes narrow but there is amusement dancing there, like he was looking for a deeper reaction. He wordlessly hands it over and One can’t help but feel a little suspicious of the small upturn of his lips as he gestures to the vent.

“After you; cephalopods first,” Klaus says whimsically. 

One rolls his eyes. “I was going to go first anyway,” he grumbled, only slightly flustered with the implication that he was part octopus. It was strange that the medium surrendered so easily; didn’t he always have some vexingly stubborn remark or petulant whine? And what was with that smug look on his face? Does Klaus know something he doesn’t?

It would be best to stay on his toes.

* * *

“I told you not to wear that flimsy shirt and you just couldn’t be bothered to listen; now look at you, the lace is all ripped on your back.”

“Well thank you, Einstein, is there any other obvious facts you’d like to point out that I don’t already know about?” Klaus replies dryly, frowning at his torn shirt, “What I don’t understand is how did you slip through the vent with ease while I struggled and you’re like two sizes bigger than me?”

One shrugs, “Must be the jumpsuit.”

Klaus scoffs indignantly, rolling his eyes. “Ah yes, must be all the lubricant infused in that slimming spandex. You’re lucky you look really good with that hugging your muscles or else I’d demand that you buy me a new shirt.”

One flashes him a sarcastic smile, “Touching, truly. Feeling generous with the compliments today, hm?”

“Asshole,” he muttered, dusting himself off before beginning to walk towards the edge of the catwalk-like structure they had plopped out of the vent upon just to have his arm yanked back by Number One.

“There are people down there,” he warned quietly, “You can’t just prance around like you own the place.”

The medium blinks at him before a smirk tugs on the corner of his mouth. “You know, being pressed up against your chest like this is a very dangerous game.”

One bites his lip, releasing Klaus from his grasp, “Just stay behind me,” he grumbled. 

“Yes sir,” Klaus purrs. 

He had a feeling that he was being checked out at the moment but, with a flustered sigh, he crept to the side anyways and peaked out between the bars.

There’s a small shuffle before Klaus is kneeling down next to him and asking, “How many do you see?”

“Five,” he mumbled, pulling the gun off his back.

“You’re going to shoot them?”

“Yeah.”

The medium frowned. “What happened to stealth mode?”

“We need to get to the door down there and these guys are in the way. We can’t sneak down there while there’s one on the other side of the catwalk, two guarding the door, one by the ladder leading down from here, and another at the door leading inside. The walls are pretty thick, probably soundproof; I think we should be fine.”

“And why not, you know, use your powers?” Klaus inquired, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“They are soundproof, not tremor proof,” One explained exasperatedly, “The exchange going on behind that door might be interrupted if they felt the walls rattle from the force of the Horrors; and if they make a break for it, we’re done for.”

“I see… But one problem with that.”

He looks at the man in a seeking manner. 

“There are four bullets and five guys. So not only are you going to have to make sure you don’t miss a single shot, but also fight one of them off hand-to-hand before he shoots you.”

One opens his mouth but then closes it, analyzing the situation. This… complicates things. If he can’t get all of them in time, there’s a good chance that he’d get shot (again…) or worse: they’d shoot at Klaus (and there was no guarantee that ghosts could be helpful with stopping a bullet). 

He’s not bad with a gun but not entirely great either; will he even be able to hit anyone from this distance? What if he wastes all the bullets? What if he merely maims someone and then they shoot at him anyway? What if he’s not quick enough and the last guy kills them both? 

Klaus is looking at him expectantly, he can feel it, and now he has to prove himself because how dumb would he look if he took the gun away from the medium and he couldn’t even hit anything? 

So, he slowly raises the rifle and takes aim at the man across from them, hands sort of shaky and brow creased in concentration. He holds his breath and can’t seem to get the end of the gun lined up his target; has he ever been under this much pressure before? When was the last time he even fired a gun?

He hears the medium click his tongue in a tsking manner. One goes to snap at him but falters when he sees the expression on Klaus’s face: he appeared entirely unimpressed, eyebrows raised and a knowing smirk dawning his lips. 

One bristled. “Don’t look at me like that; I’m just a little rusty, okay?”

Klaus hums incredulously, reaching out to lift the barrel a smidge to the right. One frowns and then readies to fire again.

“Fix your posture,” the medium murmurs.

He glares at him before straightening his back.

“Relax your shoulders.”

One exhales sharply in irritation.

“Put the butt against your shoulder, not on top of your shoulder.”

He swats Klaus’s hands away. “I know, I know; just shut up.”

“Go on one knee, not both-”

“Klaus-”

“Remember to breathe out as you pull the-”

“Klaus, I swear to God-”

“Line the barrel up with your nose-”

“If you know so much, why don’t you do it then!” One shouted, throwing his hands in the air angrily just as a bullet buzzed past his ear.

“Ah shit-” 

“Get down you idiot!” Klaus hissed, pushing them flat against the catwalk before snatching the rifle from One’s grasp. “If you want something done right,” he mutters to himself exasperatedly, “You do it yourself.” 

“Wait, Klaus, they’re-”

The medium rolls away from him and springs to one knee, firing at the guard that was quickly making his way up the ladder. The man falls instantly and One stares in shock, hands pressed over his ears as bullets rained over his head. Klaus jerks his head to the side, narrowly dodging a bullet as he pivots on his knee cap and shoots the man reloading his semi-automatic near the entrance. “Go now; the ladder’s clear,” the medium says, his voice taking on an odd tone One has never heard him use before, “I’ll cover you.” 

One recovers from his stupor and nods, crawling his way over to the ladder as he hears Klaus fire another. He yelps when he peaks his head over the bar and the man guarding the back door begins spraying in his direction. In a mere second, though, it’s over as Klaus fires his last bullet right into the man’s chest. 

Number One takes that as his cue to slide down the ladder, eyes darting back to the medium as soon as his feet hit solid ground. 

But movement catches his attention on the walkway connecting the two landings; it was the fifth man that One was originally aiming at, making his way straight for Klaus. 

“Behind you!” he hollered, only able to watch as the medium chucks the empty gun at the man’s face before sliding on his knees beneath the outstretched arm (Klaus’s back was bent at a painful-looking angle, his lumbar nearly touching the heels of his feet), tugging the strap of the gunner’s rifle with him as he went. 

The strap catches on the man’s neck, tugging him into a bowed position. Klaus stands up behind him and kicks between his legs, waiting until the man cripples to the ground in pain before slamming the butt of the empty rifle into the back of his head.

Dazed, the guard reaches for the pager that fell from his belt loop but the medium dives forward to push it out of his reach. It falls over the edge of the catwalk and the man tries to catch it but Klaus scrambles on top of him to yank back his hand. 

“Get off me, queer!” the man sneers, rolling them both closer to the edge of the platform.

The medium’s eyes widen as his hat is knocked off by the bar, instinctively reaching out to snatch it from the air but he realizes his mistake when the balance tips and they begin tilting in the unfavorable direction. “Fuck,” Klaus squeaks just before the both of them go toppling over the side. 

Number One rushes forward, tugging down the zipper of his jumpsuit, thinking ‘ _ Just one, I only need one; focus, gentle,’  _ as a single tentacle burst forth towards the falling pair. 

It catches Klaus by the foot just as the other man hits the ground with a grisly sounding thud. 

He doesn’t breathe until the medium grins chipperedly at him, hat in hand and shirt bunched up near his chin. “Nice catch,” he praises.

One lets a relieved smile slip onto his face as he sighs, “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Says the man who caught me with a homicidal eldritch creature that lives in his stomach,” Klaus retorts, his core flexing as he pulls himself to the appendage wrapped around his foot. 

He brings the Horror’s limb closer to the ground as the man frees himself and holds onto the tip of the tentacle to swing his legs underneath him before dropping the short distance to the ground.

“You’re lucky they like you,” One mumbles, putting his mental barriers in place and zipping up his jumpsuit as he made his way over to the crouched medium.

He holds out his hand and Klaus takes it, allowing One to pull him up. 

“And you’re lucky I’m good with a rifle,” he replies cheekily. 

One looks him over for injuries before meeting his eyes with a soft expression. “I will admit that you were a total badass. Did you learn to shoot like that in Vietnam?”

Klaus’s face appears surprised for a moment (has no one ever asked him about that before?) before his eager smile grows wider, “Yeah, I did. Seven months on the front line forced me to learn pretty quick but luckily I had a good teacher.”

Before One could even think twice about it, he blurts, “Was Dave the one who taught you?”

He mentally curses his undying curiosity when he catches the flicker of sadness in those green eyes but Klaus tries his best to hide it with a pert, “Why? You jealous?” as he begins walking to the back doors.

One follows. “Not at all; I don’t think I’d have the patience to teach you anything.” 

If there was a single thing he admired most about Klaus, it was probably his ability to diffuse the tension in any given situation. Whether it be a poorly timed joke, an odd remark, or an inopportune flirt, he always managed to fix the awkward situations (and conversations) even if he wasn’t the cause of them. One was grateful since comments such as those were more familiar to him, common grounds for the both of them. 

Klaus throws his head back and blows a raspberry, quipping, “There would be nothing to learn anyways if you shot like  _ that _ pathetic display earlier.”

His neck and ears flushed in embarrassment. “Yeah, well, whatever. Who even needs a gun when you have superpowers...” 

He receives a pointed look in response, Klaus saying flatly, “A person who has very dangerous and unstable powers that he can’t always rely on in an enclosed environment with very precise targets.” 

_ Ok so… he got him there… _

One looks away sheepishly. He mutters with a subtle smirk, “At least I didn’t rip my shirt in an air shaft.”

He doesn’t have time to react before the medium smacks him in the arm with an offended huff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever just spend 20 minutes looking up insults that start with a P for your chapter titles? No? Just me? 
> 
> Fun fact: I didn't know how to hold a rifle so I searched up diagrams haha (watch me still be wrong:'))


	3. Vacations Are For Plebs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re unbelievable,” he sighs exasperatedly.  
> “Really?” the medium shifts, propping up on an elbow to look down at him, “What does it for you: the talking to the dead part or being from a completely different timeline?”
> 
> One’s eyes narrow as he comments in fond annoyance, “I think the being ‘a royal pain in my ass’ part.”  
> Klaus smiles and plants a sweet kiss to his nose. “That’s cute,” he says before his eyes twinkle impishly, “But if anything, you cause the pain in my ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! The final part! There's a surprise for you in the endnotes;)

“That vase; I need it.”

“The vase? We’re doing all this for a frickin vase?!” Klaus whisper-shouted, staring at him with wide eyes, “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’ve literally gotten cocaine from this guy in the last timeline; the vase can’t be _that_ valuable.”

“I-” One bobbed his lips a few times, having to process that new tidbit of information for a couple of moments before steeling his features. “Yes, the vase. Dad wants it; it was stolen from a museum or something. If you got a problem with killing your dealer buddy, then you can stay back here.”

The medium frowned, his nose scrunching. “I never said we were buddies…” he pouted like a small child that was just scolded, his arms crossing, “So what’s the plan?”

“Well…” A small smile painted his lips as he looked at Klaus with admiring eyes, “Would my favorite distraction like to do some distracting? I think… I think you’ve proven yourself more than capable of being a reliable asset.”

The frown disappears, his green orbs glimmering with a heavy emotion One couldn’t quite recognize. Did he say something wrong? What was with this reaction? 

He was about to panic as Klaus looked seconds away from tearing up, but then a huge grin spread across the man’s face and he appeared happier than he had ever seen him.

It clicks then for One: people have always doubted Klaus, people have always looked down on him as something weak and needing protection, a liability. But now, there was someone trusting him to do an important task, someone asking him to fight _alongside_ them instead of _behind_ them. And One swells with pride because _he_ was that person, nobody else; nothing could take this moment away from them. 

“I would like nothing better,” Klaus chirps, “Richardo’s late girlfriend Maria says she would like to help too.”

He nods, a plan already beginning to bloom (call it leader instinct) as he peeks out from behind the storage crates and surveys their surroundings. “Well if you can grab the vase while Maria and I disarm them, then you both can get to cover so I can use the Horrors to finish them off.”

“Yes sir. You hear that, mamacita? Ve a patear a tu hombre en su fabricante de bebés.”

One huffs a small laugh as he shakes his head, “Seriously, what’s your obsession with kicking people in the balls?”

Mischief danced in the medium’s eyes as he gave a dazzling smile, “Rule number one of fighting on the streets: go for the sensitive parts. Poking eyeballs, punching throats, kneeing nutsacks; all dirty but all very effective.”

One places a hand on Klaus’s shoulder and squeezes. He says with a fond eye roll, “Never change, Klaus,” before darting out from their hiding place and smashing his elbow into the nearest guy’s face.

“Showtime, señorita!” he hears Klaus say from somewhere behind him before a blue silhouette shimmers into existence in front of the man (supposedly Richardo?) and yanks the knife away before slapping him a few times in the face. 

Klaus moves like liquid between the chaos, dodging punches by twisting his body in odd angles and striding over the guns that Maria left discarded on the floor. His nose scrunches as he reaches the vase, unbothered by the fact that he was using Richardo’s unconscious form as a stepping-stool.

“Aw man,” the medium whines over the commotion, “Birdy, I can’t grab this!”

One grunts, allowing a tentacle to slip through and take out the man aiming his gun in the medium’s direction. “Why?” he hollers.

“It’s covered in the good stuff!”

He scowls, glancing at Klaus for a mere second to hiss, “Just grab it!”

“You’re asking a lot from a recovering addict!”

“Have some self-control. We don’t have time for this!”

Klaus clearly voices his displeasure in a loud groan before grabbing the vase and hopping back down onto the floor. “Fine, just fine! _Have some self-control, Klaus, it’s not like it puts your sobriety at risk or anything. It’s not like I could have grabbed it while you_ \- Wait hey, Maria! Why the hell couldn’t you grab it?! Honestly, all of you are just hungry for violence and action; try meditation some time, take a vacation! This would have been so much easier if everyone wasn’t so-”

“Get down, Klaus!”

“ _Get down, Kla-_ ” the medium goes to mock before he cuts himself off with a small yelp as a tentacle rips through the air to the left of him. He dives behind the storage crate, the vase releasing a small cloud of white powder as he lands. He frantically shimmies out of range like it’s the plague, taking off his hat to fan it away

The blue form next to him looks unamused. “No inhales, idiota.”

Klaus shoots her a glare. “If I wanted anything out of you, I’d squeeze it.”

When the puff of cocaine disperses, he peeks his head over the crate to yell, “You’re really testing my will here, Numero Uno!”

There’s a subtle grunt in response, the medium ducking as another tentacle swung over his head. “Really? My bad, I thought you had more,” One grumbles dryly, taking out a few more reinforcements. 

“Well, one can only be so strong when they’ve had to do literally everything today!”

“It sounds to me like all they are doing now is complaining!”

“I wouldn’t be complaining if you didn’t have me do all the dirty work!”

“I have killed just as many people as you have!”

“Oh yeah? Wanna bet?”

“That’s so immature. Must everything be a bet to you?”

“Yes, especially when I know that I’ll win! Let me remind you that most of your so-called kills were from me; this badass, right here!”

“Um... Chicos-”

Klaus’s head whips to her angrily, “Oh put a sock in it, Mari...a?”

Her attention isn’t on him; he follows her gaze. Then he sees it: the large, spiderweb-like cracks traveling up the walls. 

“Shit!” One wheezes, “The building’s coming down: run, Klaus, go!” 

The medium didn’t need to be told twice as they both snuff their powers and scramble towards the exit.

The ceiling was crumbling around them, the ground shaking and support beams wantonly swaying. They dodge the falling debris as a loud screeching sounds from above as the catwalk breaks free from its hinges and begins its descent. 

One grabs Klaus by the elbow and rams his shoulder into the door, both diving forward just as the building collapses and their forms are swallowed by a cloud of dust.

As he lays on his stomach with his hands clasped over the back of his neck and the particles within the air begin to settle, he feels the medium sneeze on him.

One grimaces. “Gross.”

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Klaus titters sarcastically, “My hands are kind of full of vase at the moment-”

“Well, you could have put it down-”

“And I’m covered in cocaine and we just narrowly escaped a collapsing building; my bad for it not being that high on my priority list.”

It was silent for a few minutes, as they both, unmovingly, took a moment to breathe (or for One it was more of a sigh in exhaustion and relief). 

“So,” One mumbled slyly, “is it a bad time to point out that I was right about the building not being tremor proof? That it was a _good idea_ that I waited to use my powers?”

Klaus deadpans and gibes, “Is it a bad time to point out that you definitely had more kills?”

“Wha- Really? How do you know?”

The medium smirks. “They are standing over there. Would you like to speak to them?”

He blanches, shaking his head. “Shutting up now.”

* * *

One laid in bed with his nose in a crime thriller, the scratchy motel blankets kicked to the end of the bed and the cheap lamp illuminating the room in an orange glow. 

He hears the bathroom door open, not having to look up to know that Klaus was wringing the water from his curls with a towel. 

“The hot water ran out just as I got shampoo in,” the medium grumbled, tossing the damp towel onto his bed.

“Hm, good thing I took a shower first,” One muttered mostly to himself.

There’s a small scoff in response, sounding a lot closer than before. “We could have showered together to save water,” he heard the medium comment suggestively.

“That shower was nowhere near big enough for two peop- ugf!”

Klaus had plopped down on top of him, their heads barely missing each other as he received a mouthful of wet hair. The medium was half on him, half on the mattress, his left arm slung over One’s right shoulder and his leg hooked dangerously close to his waist (if he had moved down just another couple of inches, Klaus’s knee would have hit him right where it hurts). 

Number One spits out the man’s hair and holds his beloved book away from the damp body.

“Get off me! This bed isn’t big enough for two people either!”

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to get real cuddly then because I’m not moving.”

“You literally have a perfectly good bed not even five feet away.”

“Ah yes, a perfectly good bed covered in cocaine from the crack vase.”

“I’m not the idiot who threw the vase onto their bed as soon as they walked in the door.”

“And I’m not the idiot who yelled that the first one to the bathroom gets to take a shower first!”

One huffed, wanting to cross his arms in annoyance but unable to because of the bony body pinning half of his limbs down. 

“Klaus,” he groaned, “Your hair is still soaking wet!”

“So?”

“So my pillow and face and shirt and mattress are all damp now!”

“Aw, that sucks,” Klaus cooed in faux pity before tacking on, “You’re really comfy by the way.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he sighs exasperatedly.

“Really?” the medium shifts, propping up on an elbow to look down at him, “What does it for you: the talking to the dead part or being from a completely different timeline?”

One’s eyes narrow as he comments in fond annoyance, “I think the being ‘ _a royal pain in my ass’_ part.”

Klaus smiles and plants a sweet kiss to his nose. “That’s cute,” he says before his eyes twinkle impishly, “But if anything, you cause the pain in _my_ ass.”

One stares at him dumbfoundedly, a blush highlighting his neck and ears as Klaus releases a quiet laugh. 

His expression changes then: emerald green eyes looking at him with such endearment that One squirms. 

“What?” he breathes, feeling the tickle of Klaus’s black sleeve as the medium’s hand caresses the side of his face.

“I just… I really, really, _really_ like you,” Klaus mumbles with slight uncertainty as he takes a glance at One’s mouth, lips tugging downward for a brief moment before they quirk reassuringly when he meets his eyes again. “I just thought you should know that.”

His heart swells, the uncomfortableness of their sleeping arrangements and damp bed completely forgotten as warmth spreads through his chest. “Well in case you were wondering,” he murmurs with lowering lids, “I really, really, like you too.”

“Only two really’s?”

“I’d make it four if I wasn’t so tired.”

“Make it five and a kiss and I’ll let you get into a more comfortable position.”

One bites his lip with a coy smile. “Deal.”

* * *

With a grunt, Number One tosses their bags into the car and shuts the trunk; he rounds the corner and pulls open the driver door just to see that Klaus was stubbornly standing next to the passenger side.

“What are you doing?” One sighs, deadpanning as the medium crosses his arms.

“I’m not getting back in that car unless I get at least radio privileges,” he replied simply.

“You get a single station; no switching or messing with the volume,” One relents as he takes his seat, smirking subtly as Klaus grins and immediately slides into the passenger side. 

As the car is started, the medium rubs his hands together eagerly. “So many choices, so little time. Which one do I choose?”

One was already becoming annoyed, grumbling, “I don’t know; pick a preset. Just do it now before I change my mind-”

“Okay, okay. Pushy much.” Klaus reaches over and presses the fifth preset before leaning back in his seat. “There, happy?”

The melody of a ballad flooded the car, One peering at the number to realize Klaus picked the one pop preset among all six of the saved stations. “No, not happy,” One complained, squeezing the steering wheel a little tighter, “I don’t like this song.”

“Do you even know what song this is?”

“Well, no,” he flusteredly replied, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t like it.”

“This is _One_ by Lewis Capaldi you uncultured swine,” Klaus pompously explained, his nose wrinkled in distaste, “The song is adorable and you’re just being grumpy because your precious rules have been violated.” 

He scowled. “Well, whatever. I don’t have to like this generation’s lame music.”

“Ugh you sound so old,” Klaus groaned, “Should I start calling you Reginald Jr.?”

One opened his mouth to immediately protest but then a better comeback struck him, taking on a roguish tone as he said, “No, but you can call me daddy if you want.”

Klaus smirks at that (his eyebrows were only slightly raised in surprise), placing his chin to his palm as he watches him with that pensive gaze. “Really? I can?” That sarcastic voice was not a good sign. “How cute that you think I need permission to call you that; too bad you have to earn that little title.”

One gulped. “Earn it?”

“Yup.”

He wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a blow to his pride but it most certainly was. Klaus took his ego and then stepped on it, as usual. How does somebody earn that title exactly? Who else has? Why hasn’t he? On one hand, he wants to ask in an attempt to restore his dignity but on other hand, this an awkward conversation he’d rather not get into at the moment (lord knows what happened last time Klaus was feeling suggestive in the car). Also, that probably wasn’t the best name to EVER go by; curse his curiosity for even entertaining the idea. 

“How about we um… change the topic,” One suggests awkwardly with a grimace. 

“Or we could listen to the music playing-”

“It’s an advertisement-”

“Fine! Ask me something, then. We’ll play a good game of twenty questions,” Klaus melts into his seat with a lazy simper.

It wasn’t often that Klaus was willing to satisfy his insatiable hunger for knowledge; he was normally met with cryptic replies or obvious complaining until he eventually dropped the conversation due to frustration.

But this time, Klaus was the one to open the gates; he was offering him an inquiry free-card. So it would definitely be rude to not take advantage of it, right? And, besides, there has been a question on his mind since yesterday.

“Where did you learn to move like that?”

The medium seemed caught off-guard, blinking at him a few times. “Move when?”

“Yesterday,” One elaborates sending him a quick glance, “When you were fighting those guys.”

The medium shifted, crossing one leg over the other. “Well... I had Daddy dearest’s combat training, years of experience on the streets, Vietnam-”

“No, not the combat itself,” he shakes his head, his brow furrowing slightly, “I mean like literally the way your body was twisting and contorting like that; you looked like a frickin pipe cleaner every time someone tried to hit you.”

“Oh…” Klaus’s lips press into a thin line. “Did you want the quarter-truth, the half-truth, or the full-truth?”

One opens his mouth but then closes it, surprised by the question. What was that supposed to mean exactly? Who wouldn’t want the full truth? Did his answer really have to be that complicated?

He settles on, “Why?”

Klaus huffs a laugh and looks at the cars in front of them with a wry smile. “Because the answers get worse the closer to complete honesty I get.”

That’s not typically how honesty works but he’ll let it slide. Klaus has always been good at being an exception to many things. 

“Ok…” he says, slightly suspicious, “Quarter truth, then.”

Klaus grins (that was clearly the answer he was wanting). Easily, he chirps, “I took up yoga in the ‘60s; it kinda went with the whole hippie vibe I was rocking.”

“Oh.” There was definitely a better answer than this. “But that was only what: two years? You looked a lot more experienced than that; your body was practically liquid.”

The nonchalant look on the medium’s face slips for a brief moment. But he recovers with a, “And that’s why it’s called the quarter-truth, Birdy.”

So it wasn’t that his answer was hard to believe or being made up as he went, it was that the full truth left him hesitant to share; interesting. What exactly was Klaus hiding?

“Half-truth, Cowboy. Lay it on me.”

“That’s not fair; you already chose your answer-”

“Please.”

Klaus sighs before a coy smirk tugs on his lips. “Fine… I was a stripper for a little while when I was twenty.”

One’s eyes got as wide as saucers, stopping at the red light and immediately looking over at him. “Really?” he questioned, a hint of enthusiasm lacing through his voice, “Were you any good?”

Klaus seemed pleased by that response, humbly replying, “I wasn’t too shabby.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“Well,” Klaus shifted again, a hint of reminiscence to his gaze, “You know how it is: boy meets club owner, club owner offers him a job, boy steals her drug stash and the key to her deposit box, Club owner puts his name on a hit list. The usual.”

One deadpans. “There was nothing usual about that. You’re on a fucking hit list?”

“My bad: the Hargreeves usual (the light is green, by the way).”

“Oh shit,” One whips his attention back to the road and eases off the break, still keeping an awareness of the man through the corner of his eye.

“And I was but, you know, new timeline and all; I technically should be dea- um… somewhere in Germany right now.”

That was strange. “Were you going to say dead-”

“Nope, you misheard me,” Klaus replied quickly, smiling at him but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

He wasn’t entirely convinced but the medium appeared uncomfortable so he’ll decide to drop it for now (they’ll just definitely talk about it later).

Trying to disperse the sudden tension, he inquires, “Would you ever consider doing it again?”

Klaus cocks a brow, a cheeky expression on his face. “What? Pole dancing? Being a stripper?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

The grin widens. “I feel like somebody just wants to see this ass in fishnets…”

One’s cheeks flushed as he stammered, “No! I-I’m just… curious is all. I didn’t know if you enjoyed it or not.”

“Hm, okay, if you say so. I did look pretty bomb in fishnets and a feather boa though-”

“Klaus-”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” the man pouts in faux disappointment. “No, I wouldn’t do it again. You wouldn’t believe how much strength and endurance dancing on that godforsaken pole requires; props to the strong as hell ladies and gents out there able to do it but I, for one, would rather just die at that point. No siree.”

So Klaus _was_ once a pole-dancer; that seemed like an intriguing sight to see. Was he really as good as he says? One shouldn’t feel as interested as he is right now; he shouldn’t want to imagine the man dancing in provocative clothing for his entertainment. That was such a… lousy thought, right? Besides, Klaus obviously wasn’t very proud of his past occupation-

“Wait,” he realizes, his brow furrowing in thought, “If half-truth was about being a stripper... Then what’s full-truth?”

“God damn it,” the medium hisses, crossing his arms, “I knew you were going to ask that. You should have just said full-truth from the start, you curious bastard.”

Number One’s nose wrinkled. “Well I didn’t want to know before but I do now, just tell me.”

“If I tell you…” he starts, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve, “No asking questions about it; just soak it in and leave it at that.”

One nods. “Okay, no questions; got it.”

“I was… uh- I was quite the adventurous prostitute for most of my life. If you had money, drugs, drinks, or even a bed to sleep in I’d- I’d pretty much do anything.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

An excruciating silence encompassed them, One not sure what to say without coming off as rude or prying (he also promised to ask no questions which limited his responses ten-fold; giving that one answer just awakened even more inquiries).

He has to say something though, right? He doesn’t want Klaus to mistake his quietness for judgment because that was most certainly not the case. This was probably a hard thing for Klaus to discuss and he was the one who pressured him into confessing so maybe an apology was an order.

“Sorry.”

The medium tilts his head curiously. “For what?”

One frowned. “For bringing it up, for you having to go through that, I don’t know.”

Klaus’s expression softens, waving his hand dismissively. “Oh, well don’t worry about it. The past is in the past.”

“But still…”

What did Klaus’s family think about that? Did they even know? Did anyone know? What pushed him into selling himself? What broke him? Why was he needing a place to sleep; why couldn’t he stay at the academy? His frown deepened. “You must have been pretty lonely.”

A melancholy tint accompanies Klaus’s gaze as he stares back out the windshield. “It... was, for the most part; my family and I were on no speaking terms since I was the useless hobo junkie. But I had my Beniny cricket so it wasn’t too bad.”

So either he ran away or they kicked him out… that must have been a hard way to grow up. One couldn’t imagine being on his own in the streets; he couldn’t imagine being driven away from his family.

But, in a way, Klaus wasn’t completely alone, huh? “That’s good that you had Ben to look out for you.”

The medium was stronger than he, or anyone for that matter; he has struggled so much but has managed to overcome it all. Any other person would have lost their mind by now.

One places a hand on the console, palm up in offering.

Klaus’s lips quirk in a touching manner, eagerly intertwining their fingers.

“Yeah, I suppose,” he admits, seeming a little more comfortable with opening up, “But I have a bad habit of not listening to people so we mainly bickered. He saw humanity at its lowest, me at my lowest; bless him for sticking around as long as he did. I wonder what he would be saying if he saw me now…”

One smiles at him, for some reason feeling compelled to say, “He’d probably say that you’re an annoying piece of shit, but he’s proud of you.”

Klaus stares at him, mouth agape and tears welling his eyes. He looked happy though, and grateful, looking down into his lap with an unusually shy grin. “Yup, definitely something Ben would say,” he chuckles, wiping his eyes with his free hand, “I miss him sometimes, ya know? But I wouldn’t change this for the world. I’m… I’m so lucky to have met you.”

Number One squeezes his hand assuringly, not really sure what to say. How is someone supposed to reply to a compliment as significant as that? 

Perhaps a tease will do the trick.

“But still not Daddy material, hm?”

Giddily, Klaus raises their hands before thumping them back down on the console, successfully crushing One’s pinky.

One winces and comments with a pout, “You’re being very violent lately.”

Klaus smiles innocently. “Maybe you should punish me, then.”

This was an awful time to be driving, once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I already have the last part of this series written. It's all ready to go and it'll wrap up this whole storyline nicely (hopefully). Keep an eye out for "A Little Birdy Told You Loved Me"! 
> 
> And once again, Thanks for Reading! I hope you enjoyed~

**Author's Note:**

> So whatcha think? Does it meet your approval? XD  
> (I felt like pushing the boundaries of One's character development a little further; hopefully, you liked it <3)


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